


Hearsay

by stitchy



Series: The Matriarchal Star Wars Redux You Always Wanted [4]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Backstory, Family Drama, Force-Sensitive Finn, Gen, Mommy Issues, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Phasma POV, Phasma is Rey's Mother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 19:24:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6533329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stitchy/pseuds/stitchy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cast aside by the First Order and out of options- Phasma is convinced by her estranged daughter Rey to return with her to the Resistance. She struggles with the suspicions of the people on base as she attempts to connect with Rey and solve a mystery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hearsay

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is part of a series and will be better read after at least “[The Colloquium](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5886811)” and “[Queen of Air](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6184219/chapters/14167771)”, which are Finn and Rey POV’s. If you insist on skipping those you should atleast know that...
> 
> Previously on Phasmom!- Luke trains Rey and tells her that her mother is Sheev Phasma, a clone of Palpatine*, who was meant to be the figurehead of the exiled Imperial Remnant. Phasma had been sent to train with the Jedi to unleash an inherited Force power, but was ultimately found to be insensitive and the FO formed with Snoke at it’s head instead. TFA happens, etc. Rey, Finn, Poe, and BB-8 free Phasma from FO jail after she has “allowed” the destruction of Starkiller base. Phasma isn’t too grateful about that and maroons them, stealing their ship. Sometime later, Rey and Finn run into her again while saving the day on Korsella V, where she has fallen in with a gang of con artists. It’s been rough, so Rey convinces Phasma to come home to the Resistance with her~
> 
> *averaging out our standards/wonky clone standards this was a teen pregnancy, so... use your good judgement if that's the story for you!
> 
> Beta'ed by StarMaple, my partner in crime!  
> PSA: Betas are great! If you don't have one when you write, solicit one on your blog! If you don't write/aren't too busy writing at the moment, offer to beta for others! It makes a good community and great fic :)

     The galaxy is an uncomfortably small place, Sheev has always known this. As a child she had been raised as the only clone with an accelerated maturation amongst several unmodified, natural children of the Imperial Remnant. There are hazy memories of being the same height as the others when they were all seven standard-years old and she was barely two. There are sharper, more vivid memories of the chemical therapy she underwent at six, when it was deemed she had exceeded optimal height some time ago. Any bigger, she would tower over all but the most statistically exceptional humans, and she already stood out. Any bigger, she made herself more of a target at long range than was mitigated by her daunting size in close combat. Any bigger, and she would need a custom flight couch- and she  _ already  _ needed custom armor. 

     The trouble was, until she manifested the powers of her genetic predecessor Palpatine, as was expected of her- any exceptional needs Sheev might have were considered an imposition. Two years after chemical therapy, the young Sheev Palpatine had still not shown signs of Force sensitivity, so at eight standard-years of age and fully grown, she was granted a name of her own- Phasma. The handlers who had watched over her early life sent her forth to train with the Jedi in a final effort to awaken her potential. For two years she lived outside the Remnant, applying herself with determination to the study of power that she had been programmed to believe was her destiny- but the Force never embraced her back. She didn’t fit in at the temple any more than in the Remnant, and returned to the only home she had known, humiliated. 

     The First Order formed then. It had originally been conceived of with an exalted space Sheev Phasma was intended to fill, but the Supreme Leader emerged from the disappointed Remnant, rallying the Order behind himself, instead. Sheev was relegated to a mere soldier. Upon being taken in by the Resistance, she discovers that she had been fortunate to be given even that minor consideration.

     When Sheev first enters the Resistance base, several officers approach to shake her hand, assuming that she is among the Korsellan delegates that arrived with her. How quickly they withdraw when she is properly introduced, standing at parade rest with hands tucked behind their backs. On each of their faces, brows furrow. Every time she makes eye contact, throats clear and shoulders square. She shifts her weight between feet, and wary faces track her up and down, taking in her full height and sturdy frame, assessing her potential as a threat. The collective scrutiny washes over her like a wave and seems to flood the dim subterranean bunker, overgrown in vines. Sheev half expects the tendriled walls to reach out and tangle around her until she’s rooted to the spot, trapped. 

     Yes, the galaxy is a small place, with very little room to run before Sheev finds herself crammed into a corner that was never really meant for her, again.

     She nods or shakes her head, because there are no words she has to share with some stuffed shirt or other of the Resistance- she didn’t come here for  _ them _ . Verlaine, a Rebel veteran who had accompanied herself and the former trooper ‘Finn’ in the Korsellan shuttle follows her around. She smiles at Sheev bracingly as she deigns to utter vague, one word answers to the officer’s constant stream of questions. Head held high (though never as high as her own), Verlaine interjects with more details to soothe their anxieties, but keeps glancing over her shoulder until finally, Rey appears and positions herself at Sheev’s side. 

     Tension evaporates in the girl’s presence. Hands that had been clenched tight at sides begin to gesture conversationally again, and when Rey speaks to them freely despite holding no rank and asking no permission- they smile.

     “I expect we can save some of that for the debriefing with the General, can’t we? I’d like to take my guest to the quartermaster before then so that she has someplace to sleep tonight.” Rey slips a hand around Sheev’s elbow and bows her head graciously to the group of officers, then leads her away and through an archway door. Sheev jerks her arm free, but follows.

     Rey walks ahead down the corridor, pointing out the mess hall and communal suites that branch off on either side as they walk. All around them, natural light pours in through cracks in the ancient masonry, and it's difficult to imagine that the people that fill these haphazard halls are the same ones capable of opposing the more predictably structured First Order. There is no discernable pattern to the flow of personnel or the utility of any particular room- some are abandoned entirely, flooded with earth after a ceiling collapse. Only the roots that burst into the structure from the planet’s surface seem to be holding it all together. While Sheev clanks in her heavy armor, the tread of Rey’s softly booted feet barely sounds on stone floor as her slim figure leads them through the ruins.

     It strikes her then, the first motherly thought she’s had while laying eyes on the girl- Rey looks too small, as though she’s been underfed her whole life. No one has monitored her intake or designed a caloric program to help her achieve maximum strength. Sheev stops short in the middle of the corridor, stunned. She...  _ disapproves  _ of such a misfortune. Rey turns, alerted by the silence of her armor.

     “Are you all right?” Her wide eyes search Sheev’s bewildered expression in a way makes her wish for her helmet again.

     “I am.”

     The answer satisfies Rey and she continues down the corridor, but now instead of giving a tour of the facilities, she turns to more personal commentary. “I was planning to rejoin my master after Korsella V, but now that you’re here I’ll be staying on base for awhile. We can discuss options with the General, of course, but I imagine there are a number of corps that could benefit from your expertise.” Rey turns them around another corner and pauses in front of their destination. “I think I’ll take the time to train for squadron maneuvers with the X-wing pilots, myself.”

     Upon their arrival to the planet, Sheev had witnessed the girl’s piloting. Her control had been exemplary, even if her style was overly flourished. “You would make a formidable starfighter,” she observes. 

     Rey flushes and her mouth twists in an inscrutable shape. “Thank you.” She ducks into the quartermaster’s office and Sheev follows.

     “Rey! We can’t shake you off, can we?” calls out the man inside, a barrel chested Gotal.

     “Putting myself at your mercy once again,” Rey laughs. She slips two ident cartridges across the counter for him to feed into his register, and he eyes Sheev appraisingly.

     “Anything you need on base, you can check with me: Prek! And you are?”   
  
     “Sheev Phasma,” she huffs, taking her cartridge when it’s offered back. 

     Rey steps close and glances up at her. “-My mother.”

     Prek’s snubbed-nose face cracks in a smile. “Any friend of Rey’s is a friend of-” he breaks off when his eyes catch the profile that rises up in electric white script from his console. Beside her ident image floats a Seal of Order, struck through with a red mark. He coughs. “Ah... anyway- let me get you some linens.” He turns his back on them, brusque, and dives into the rack full of supplies.

     A few minutes later, they exit the quartermaster’s with a joint room assignment and a bundle each.

     “He’ll get over it- they all will,” Rey says, once they're out of earshot. “Everyone on base  _ loves  _ Finn, and he was First Order,” she says fondly. “He’s a real people person.” 

     “I don’t need them to love me,” Sheev spits out, horrified at the thought of being valued for something as superficial as a  _ personality _ .

     Rey’s head drops a bit. “Right.”

     They continue in silence down several twists and turns of hallway, then arrive at their quarters. Inside, the room is spacious by Sheev’s standards, though it was certainly not originally appointed as a living space. The clerestory windows in the exterior wall may never have been paned, and are covered with a flimsiplast wrap to provide weather proofing. In the middle of the space stands a climate control pod, and in two opposite corners there are low, collapsible bunks. All along one wall, some portable refresher cabinets had been painted an alarming shade of blue best left to the flora outdoors.

     Rey drops her pack and bundle on one of the bunks, staking her claim. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to sleeping in a proper cot,” she says, offhandedly. It seems she's determined to make some personal commentary again, so Sheev braces herself. “I had a hammock in my old AT-AT when I was smaller, but honestly, the ground suits me fine.”   
  
     Hammocks were not a regulation feature on AT vehicles of any description, and Sheev squints at the girl. “You lived in an AT-AT?”

     “Yeah.” Rey grins at her, though Sheev can’t imagine why. “I probably logged more hours than even  _ you _ .”

     “Doubtful,” Sheev sniffs. Ground transport was a particular interest of hers when it came to piloting. Maneuvering the towering mass of an AT-AT was second nature to her, but there was little use in all of her specialized training with such systems now, of course, and even less use in reminiscing. The First Order would never take her back into its ranks, and with the state of the New Republic, the Resistance could never finance such a vehicle. “This was on Jakku?”

     “Yes. The  _ Hellhound Two _ . I lived there for nine years.” Rey holds her chin up proudly.

     Commendable survival skills aside, that isn’t something Sheev would take pride in. She rolls out the bundle of blankets on her own cot and fetches the towel folded within. “That wasn’t supposed to be the case,” is all she says, then she stalks off to the ‘fresher for a wash before the debriefing.

-

     General Organa leans against the edge of her desk flanked by a bearded pilot with a datapad while Sheev, Rey, Finn, and Verlaine sit around a table opposite her and finish recounting their activities on Korsella V. When asked, Sheev fills in details about the operation run by N’ra Fleetfire, but mostly she sits quietly and observes.   
  
     “Just one more thing. Finn, how did you know where to find Rey, out in the middle of the wastes?” Organa asks. The General’s dark-eyed examination is penetrating, and somehow, familiar. While the purpose of the question escapes Sheev, the General clearly already has an answer in mind.

     “I-” He starts, uncertain. “We can just  _ feel  _ each other, General. Probably ‘cause Rey is- you know. Jedi.” When he smiles, it makes Sheev grimace.   
  
     Organa raises an eyebrow and crosses her arms. “Are you certain you’ve never  _ ‘just felt’  _ people besides Rey before?”   
  
     “Not...specifically?” Rey looks at Finn expectantly, but he shrugs one shoulder. “But once, that day on Takodana, when the Hosnian System was destroyed by Starkiller- there were  _ so  _ many people,” he chokes. “Didn’t  _ everyone  _ feel that?” Finn looks to the people at the table imploringly.

     This was clearly a matter of the Force, and Sheev’s sensitivity was unforgettably nonexistent. She darts a look between the others, shaking her head slightly along with Verlaine and the bearded pilot. 

     “Isn’t it obvious?” Rey clutches Finn’s hand, excited. Surprisingly, he doesn’t recoil from such contact, as Sheev would.

     “I’m not a Jedi-” he starts.

     Verlaine chimes in, “Not everyone who’s Force sensitive turns out to be a Jedi. Haven’t you met Maz? Or, you know- The General?” She thumbs in Organa’s direction.

     General Organa’s mouth quirks up by one corner. “I think you should consider meeting with my brother.”

     Finn gulps. “Yes, General.”   
  
     “You all exceeded my wildest expectations,” she says, slowly regarding each of the members of the debriefing. “We have dozens of Korsellans joining our ground forces, four new pilots, and Kor Dae’s commitment to supporting the airfield. Rey and Finn, I’m recommending you both for captaincies that should come through by the end of the day- job well done.” She stands up straight and drops her arms by her side, nodding to the bearded pilot that the debriefing is concluded and he may file the appropriate reports.

     Sheev finds herself murmuring a customary “Thank you, General,” along with the others as they are dismissed. Everyone takes to their feet and begins to file out, and Rey is just opening her mouth to speak when-

     “Phasma, will you stay a moment?” The General steps in front of Sheev, fixing her with that oddly familiar dark-eyed stare. They both glance at Rey who smiles and nods before stepping out of the room with the others.

     “General.” 

     Organa stands at ease, feeling no need to draw herself up to her full, if insubstantial height. This is completely unlike any other general Sheev has served with, and it surprises her. “I owe you thanks,” Organa says, even more puzzling.   
  
     “We owe each other nothing.”   
  
     Shaking her head, the General continues. “You trained the most exceptional soldier in my ranks, and he didn’t learn that here. Finn would have been a General if he’d remained with the First Order. He’ll be one here, yet.”

_      He’s a traitor _ , Sheev thinks, automatically, before she remembers.

     She’s a traitor, too. 

     “He is very skilled,” Sheev says, after consideration. That much doesn't change, whatever side one finds oneself on. If General Organa is trying to tempt her into a false sense of security by inspiring her with pride, it won’t work, however. Sheev knows how these high ranking types operate- her whole life has been spent in the midst of their machinations.   
  
     “He’s not why you’re here though. Tell me- when did you discover your daughter was still alive?” 

     The hairs on the back of Sheev’s neck stand on end, despite expecting a question along these lines. When she says nothing, the General invites her to sit again with a magnanimous wave of her hand and then and joins her, leaning her chin on the heel of one hand.

     As a clone child she had never put much thought into the concept of parents- until she found herself on the opposite side of the equation. Such a thing would not be permitted when Sheev was already struggling and failing to fulfill the role the Remnant had planned for her. She simply couldn’t return from her sabbatical Force-less  _ and  _ toting proof of further transgressions on one hip. With no other apparent option, she appealed to the most paternal figure she knew. Skywalker might not have been able to conjure in her the Force sensitivity the Remnant had so hoped Sheev would inherit from Palpatine, but he was nurturing and patient, and in her moment of desperation he was someone Sheev believed she could trust. While trying to provide a better life for her child than that of a disgraced clone, she had never dreamed of slaughters and exiles.

     Word of the attack on Skywalker’s temple, where she had left her child, had reached her ears, of course. Like everyone else, she had believed the report that there were no survivors, save for the Jedi master himself. Bitterly, she blamed him- let the anger fuel her rage and violence. Realization of the mistake years later had been quite a blow, following a series of events that had already upended life as she knew it. 

_      For your complicity with the destruction of Starkiller base, you are stripped of your rank. Pending review you will either be reallocated to the Pressylla Mines or recycled for protein. _

     “I had not thought of my child in a long time until I was face to face with her,” Sheev finally admits. “It was assumed she did not survive the attack on the temple.” No sooner had she been cast aside by the Order, than she was suddenly being freed and confronted with the fact her own secret child was the cause of the tumult. Now, the background details are slowly coming together, but there’s still a missing piece of information.

     The General’s brow creases with something very close to worry. “That must have been difficult news.”

     “My estimation of her safety was flawed.” 

     “Well,” says the General, “-lucky for Rey, your estimation of her demise was equally flawed. One of the older students at the temple was forewarned of the attack and hid her. My son.”  
  
     Ever since Sheev had learned of Rey being abandoned on Jakku- it had never quite made sense as an action that the wise Skywalker would have taken. He had disappeared too, so why not simply take her with him into hiding? It made much more sense that a fellow  _ child  _ would decide leave an eight year old girl alone on a backwater planet- in that, such a decision made very little sense at all.

     Sheev frowns at Organa. “Then there were two survivors besides Skywalker? My child and yours?”   
  
     The General’s mouth firms into a thin, straight line. “My son was not a survivor, he was a perpetrator. You know him as Kylo Ren.” The General pauses. “I understand you’ve spent some time close to him in the past few years.”

     “In  _ proximity _ ,” Sheev corrects. This was very sensitive information. That the right hand of the Supreme Leader, a lord of the First Order was spawn of the Rebellion would undoubtedly disturb its ranks. Sheev recognizes now just why the dark-eyed gaze of the General had so unsettled her. “Why would you tell me this?”   
  
     Organa looks up at the ceiling, strung with vines and computer cables, side by side. “You would have heard about it one way or another- but I thought you deserved an explanation for what had happened to her. You did try to place her somewhere safe, and on behalf of my family I am sorry that didn’t work out.”

     Sheev bites her tongue. No one has offered her an apology for  _ any  _ reason since her training at the temple had come to nothing. Even then she had not been not certain what, if anything, there was to say at such a moment. Time could not be rewritten, and wishing for different circumstances never made them so. It irritates her not to have a ready response to a situation- and it has been happening with increasing frequency these past few months. 

     After several long moments of silence between them, Organa sighs and rises from her chair again to go dig through a pile of equipment. The General flops a datapad onto the table in front of Sheev. “For access to the holonet and research. I know Finn had quite a bit of catching up to do,” she says, nodding at the computer. It’s probably locked down with security protocols to prevent Sheev from entertaining any nefarious notions, with a mirror program running on some Resistance Intel tech’s work station- but it’s something. A gesture, if not a way to pass the time. “And if you’d like assistance contacting Rey’s father-”   
  
     Sheev stiffens. “That will not be necessary.”

     Organa nods, “Well, my door is always open,” she says, waving at the archway to the meeting room, devoid hinges or even a pocket for a sliding hatch. Taking that as a dismissal, Sheev rises from her seat once more and takes her leave. 

     Just beyond the archway, a small orange and white ball droid shimmies and beeps at her appearance. It’s the same one that the First Order had been seeking while it carried the map to Skywalker, and the same that had been Rey’s co-pilot when they first met in the Lambda shuttle. As Sheev had marooned the droid’s master in that meeting- they had not gotten along. Uneager to be on the receiving end of another of it’s angry zaps, Sheev attempts to walk past it, but it squawks and alternately knocks at her knees, then rolls back and forth as if it’s pacing- pointing out a direction for her to follow. It does not extend an electrified arm, but burbles in a friendly tone.

     “Were you sent to collect me, droid?”

     The droid shrills in an unmistakable affirmative.

     “Very well.”

     Humming to itself, the droid leads her down yet another twist of corridors to an area of the complex clearly designated for living quarters. As they approach what Sheev assumes is their destination, she hears voices in conversation.

     “Command would never approve that, and I wouldn’t blame them, after last time,” says a male speaker that she doesn’t quite recognize.   
  
     “Then I’ll just stay here,” says Rey’s frustrated voice.   
  
     “No, you can’t let it hold you back from things you want to do,” Finn says.   
  
     “I want both! But unless you can think of someone else to-”

     With a heavy sigh the first voice speaks again. “Verlaine would probably keep an eye out, if I let Yellow Squadron have you.”

     The droid announces their arrival with a hoot, and Sheev follows it into a room. The Resistance pilot that had been arrested on Jakku stands with his arms crossed in the middle of the space, while Rey and Finn sit on the edge of bunk- the latter jumps to his feet and squares his shoulders at her sudden appearance. 

     “Captain,” says Finn, face scrunching. Whether or not he’s aware of her fall from grace, Sheev doesn’t correct him. The room is silent for a moment, but for a few anxious sounds from the droid.

     The pilot reaches out a hand to still the droid. “BB-8, please. General Poe Dameron,” he says, offering it to Sheev, next.

     She shakes, disarmed by the earnest smile that accompanies the gesture, uncharacteristic compared to the many Resistance officers that had refused such pleasantries earlier. “Sheev Phasma.” 

     Rey doesn’t jump in to offer further information, which she takes as an indication that this is a group of confidantes. “It looks like I’ll be taking- well-  _ finishing  _ a mission we all started before you came along,” she says, smoothing her garments and then standing. “Probably be off base for a few days, starting tomorrow.”

     “I will go with you,” Sheev says, automatically. The whole point of returning to the Resistance with Rey had been to satisfy the girl’s desire to acquaint themselves. There was no sense in either turning around to leave without the other just as soon as they had arrived. 

     Dameron shakes his head. “That won’t be possible. Don’t worry though- we’ll find someone to keep you company.” He grins down at his droid, who beeps. “BB-8 says she’d like to get to know you.”

     What possible use for socialization a droid might have or be is not clarified. Finn looks to the other man conspiratorially. “Well I don’t know about you all, but I’m certainly going to enjoy a night back on base before we’re off again,” he says, eyebrow arching.

     “Force, Finn,” Rey snorts. “One might think you hadn’t seen Poe in a standard-year.”

     “I was talking about  _ dinner _ !” Finn stammers. 

     “Sure you were,” says Dameron, grinning. He reaches out to take Finn’s hand and pulls him past Sheev, toward the door. Finn glances at her and they share an uncomfortable moment before he looks away again. BB-8 chases them out the door, and Dameron laughs and puts his arm around Finn’s shoulders reassuringly. 

     “Playing it cool,” Finn mutters.

     “You stud.”   
  
     “ _ Not in front of Phasma _ , sheesh.”

     Rey beckons her along behind others. Sheev sets her jaw tight and follows quietly. Observes.

-

     That night after dinner Sheev is tucked into her cot in the same room as her child for the first time since she was born, just as restless as she had been then. Rey sleeps, curled in on herself like one who has never known the luxury of proper bedding- forced to rely on only their own core heat for survival. Sheev can barely remember watching over her like this before- a tiny thing in a night-dark room- but it had happened. 

     Her thoughts had been racing then, too- but back then it was a cacophony of worries and What Ifs. What if the Remnant found out, what if they decided her child was more likely to fulfill the role of Palpatine’s heir, what if she could hide the girl away from ever having to live with that kind of responsibility hanging over her head. All of the contingencies that had occurred to her then- Sheev had never thought of what might happen if she had stayed.

_      “You can both stay, Sheev,” says the Master. He cradles the baby in his arms, and she screams-  screams like she knows this is worth mentioning. Considering. _

_      Sheev shakes her head, grimly. “I am of the house of the Emperor,” she reminds him, as much as herself. “The Remnant will see me destroyed before they allow me leave them permanently.” _

_      “When you’re ready then,” he says. “May the Force be with you.” _

_      She kisses the baby's head, thinking that that is precisely the problem- the Force never was with her. Perhaps if it had been she might have stood a chance away from the Remnant. Perhaps if her child stayed close to the temple, to the Force, she’d be better for it. “With her,” she whispers- her last What If. _

     Rey stirs, startling the quiet moment. An arm flings out like she’s shielding herself, but she says nothing more distinct than a grunt. She bolts upright in her bunk then, sweat shining on her face in light purpled by the flimsiplast wrapped windows. Her knees tuck up to her chest and she wraps her arms around them and then glances at Sheev’s bunk.

     They catch eyes. “Hope I didn’t wake you,” she mutters.

     “I was awake.”   
  
     “Can’t sleep?” Rey shuffles back on her cot until her back hits the wall and draws up her blankets. “Well, I can’t  _ stay  _ asleep. Finn says it’s cause I must be half droid- I only need a half night’s recharging cycle.” She smiles a soft, tiny smile then buries her nose into her blankets, hiding it. As susceptible from hours of recollection as she is, Sheev thinks it a shame.

     “You are not half droid,” she yawns. “You are half Naboo.” 

     Rey’s brow creases in consideration of this, but perhaps because of an instinct honed by long years of solitary living, she says nothing more. She gathers a datapad from her pack and keeps to herself, letting Sheev finally fall asleep.

-

     In the next few days while Rey takes off on her mission with the others, the droid BB-8 and Verlaine do indeed keep Sheev company. Irritating,  _ close  _ company. It seems every corner she turns either Verlaine is hovering just around it, or the droid is bouncing off her shins.

     “Why don’t we take in a round at the targeting sim?” Verlaine will ask, or- “We’re short on grav sleds, if you want to lend a hand with the new shipment...”

     BB-8 is a slightly less obtrusive companion, at any rate. If Sheev retires to her quarters to spend time on research, the droid contents itself to chatter pleasantly in a corner and doesn't ask her to go anywhere or to do anything. Not that Sheev minds having something to do, even if it is striking gear from the tarmac or feeding greasy cables through air shafts- it's the  _ looks  _ that she keeps getting that she minds. In the First Order, people simply didn’t stand around and gawk. 

     There are more aliens amongst the Resistance than Sheev has cumulatively met in her life- many much taller and more strange to behold- so she knows it isn’t that which troubles them. Despite Rey’s assurance that the people here had come to admire another First Order defector, she is certain that her history is being held against her. And what else could she expect? She had not arrived on the heels of victory as Finn had done. She had offered no prized information in exchange for clemency, or even been anointed as an ally by a friendship born in battle. Suspicious eyes watch her everywhere, keeping her alert and sharp, which probably only serves to make her look edgy and further feeds the problem. Altogether it’s very frustrating, and she has few outlets. 

     Eventually Sheev runs out of corridors to pace within the complex and ventures into the jungle surrounding the base. The trees are heavy with fruit that makes an appearance at every meal in the mess hall, and their sprawling branches offer a bit of privacy from prying eyes. Careful to stay within a manageable hiking distance back to base, Sheev wanders as she pleases and follows the sound of running water.

     The environment of D’Qar is not unlike the the region of Dantooine where Skywalker had founded the new Jedi temple and resurrected the study of the Force with a fresh generation of students. The vegetation is mainly low and shrubbed, with ridges of crumbly gray rock poking up through the earth, eroded by glacial movements, ages ago. Mountains loom in the distance, shrouding the valley where the Resistance has made its home, with their snowy caps offering a source to the river that now flows into view. Sunlight dapples the surface of the river, pouring in through the leafy canopy of branches that hang over it from trees on either side. It’s shores are pebbled, and make a satisfying crunch beneath Sheev’s boots. She walks along the length of the river until she comes to a small lake formed by lowering of tides over time.

     As it’s midday, the heat of the sun has made the air by the water rather humid. Sheev’s shirt sticks to her skin, and she glances over her shoulder in the direction of the base, considering. It’s a good two hours walk back, so she isn’t likely to be stumbled upon by any passersby who weren’t already looking for her. Verlaine had promised that she was at liberty to explore the area as long as she checked in somehow by nightfall, and she doesn’t  _ feel  _ like she’s being followed- so she strips. Once she’s down to her undermost layer, Sheev wades into the lake until she’s waist deep, then dives beneath the surface.

_      “I don’t have a homeworld,” she explains to the Master- “but my predecessor was Naboo.” _ __  
_  
_ __      “A water world,” he notes.

_      “ There is no reason to learn swimming in the Remnant, as he might have.” The sea rolls toward them in waves. It laps at their feet, soaking the hems of their robes. “But I would like to try.” _

     The water is just frigid enough that continual movement is mandatory. Sheev crosses the width of the lake with powerful, cutting strokes of her long arms without even stopping to tread halfway. It doesn’t matter that she hasn’t had a chance to fully immerse herself in twenty years- there are some things that will never leave her. 

     Sometimes when she would become frustrated after a long day of exercises with the other initiates at the temple, she would sneak out of her bunk under the light of Dantooine’s twin moons and let the sea be her adversary instead of her angry thoughts. The waves would beat at her, trying to push her back toward the shore- but she would battle them, kicking and gasping until she washed up again on the beach, exhausted. She would be too tired to think then- not about how poorly her training was going, or about how reluctant the Force was to make an entry into her life, or even how the Remnant might deal with her if and when she failed. Sheev would fall asleep in the sand, then wake up before dawn to return to her bunk before she was missed.

     D’Qar water is not so briney as the sea on Dantooine. When Sheev gets a mouthful after diving too deep, too long, she finds that it’s fresh enough to drink. It explains why the Resistance had been so eager to maintain their location on the planet, even with the threat of detection. D’Qar is lush with natural resources and boundaries, and it’s jungle setting would make any ground invasion by the unfamiliar First Order distinctly disadvantaged. Sheev dives again, determined to touch the bottom of the lake.

_      "The hell are you doing in the middle of the sea at night!?” he sputters as the waves pummel them both. Sheev treads backwards against the riptide, away from him despite her cramping legs. _

_      “None of your business,” she spits. She’s seen him before, in the market. He’s not from the temple, but somehow he came to be on the beach tonight of all nights. _

_      He slops the dark hair off his forehead so he can see, his expression baffled. “Well excuse me for saving you, then. Nevermind!” _

_      She sees him often at the beach, after that night. At least until the night when neither waits for the pretext of drowning to wrap their arms around the other. After that night- Sheev never sees him again. _

-

     After four days away, Rey and the others return. As good a show as BB-8 had made of being her constant companion, the droid rushes from Sheev’s side to rejoin its master. In a whirlwind of beeps and whistles, BB-8 reacts to the stormtrooper who follows them off of their shuttle, helmet tucked under one arm.

     Though Sheev does not recognize the man particularly, something about her bearing must echo of her origins, and he snaps to attention at the sight of her.

     “We were supposed to be retrieving old and placing new spy-droids,” says Finn, hefting a squirming net of small drones on one shoulder. “-but uhhh...”   
  
     “It looks like Finn started a trend,” Rey laughs. She kneels to meet BB-8, and bizarrely pats the droid’s domed head like it’s a housepet.

     Dameron hoists his own sackful of spy-droid. “Hey, I liked Finn before it was cool. Just so everyone knows.”   
  
     Rey smiles up at Sheev brightly. “We have to drop these little guys off with Intel for processing, then I’ll tell you all about it.”

     In a complete surprise to herself, Sheev feels a tiny smile twitch on her own face. “You’re late,” she says- because ‘ _ I missed you _ ’ doesn't seem at all right. 

     That night in their quarters, Rey tells Sheev about the mission, and how their new defector used to be stationed at a secret drydock full of Y-85 Titan Dropships- the kind that transported and deployed AT-ATs and prefabricated garrisons. Resistance Intelligence feels certain that they can collaborate with the defector to triangulate the drydock’s position in space. 

     “We don’t even have to worry about beating vehicles that can’t get to the battlefront!” Rey explains in her excitement. 

     She talks all night about her hopes for after the war- how she would like to train an apprentice of her own someday, and restore the Jedi archives. Sheev prays to the Force that had never answered her before that Rey survives to see such things.

     When the former stormtrooper drowns while on a training hike with the Resistance infantry three days later, rumors swirl. Some suspect that the trooper had been overwhelmed by his change in allegiance and had committed suicide, while others insist it was simply an accident- it wasn’t like the First Order prioritized swimming proficiency. 

     There are veiled accusations, of course.

     “ _ She _ goes swimming near that checkpoint every day, you know,” someone mutters within Sheev’s earshot in the mess hall, the night it happens. Rey frowns.

     For days after that, Finn isn’t his usual ‘people person’ self. He is morose and unwilling to joke with his friends as he had before. The trooper designated FN-2187 had always taken too personal a responsibility for weaker members of his squad, Sheev remembers. She had observed that he had overcome this fault while with the Resistance by surrounding himself with others who shared this peculiarity. Even Sheev could admit that their overlapping strengths and vulnerabilities had forged the squad of three into an intimidating force. If he wants to be the best soldier possible, Finn needs to focus on the remaining members of his group. Predictably, he is not receptive to Sheev’s recommendations on this topic.

     At breakfast one morning, Dameron makes a suggestion with regard to Finn’s difficulty recovering from the death of the other defector. “Buddy, maybe it’s time to go visit Master Skywalker like the General said. You can get a break from all this Resisting and Ordering,” he says, nudging their shoulders together as they sit side by side. “I could take you. I could  _ stay  _ with you- I have some leave accrued, believe it or not.”   
  
     “No, you don’t,” Finn mopes.   
  
     “Well I could make up a reason why my time is better spent off-base. I am a very fancy and important general now, you know. What do you say?” Dameron waits for his answer with a hopeful, longing look that did not last, in Sheev’s experience. 

     She leaves the table in a huff before hearing Finn’s response, but before they take off that night, Dameron asks if she has any messages to relay to Skywalker. After some thought she knows what to say, even if Dameron doesn’t quite know what to make of it. “Thank him for the swimming lessons.” 

     Later, in the dark of their quarters Rey finally asks- “Do I have a father?” 

     Over the past few days she had eked out a rough background of Sheev’s history on Dantooine through a series of yes or no questions, and having discerned that she was born there, now she was going in for the kill.

     “I don’t know,” Sheev says truthfully. He could be alive or dead- it has been twenty years. She didn’t really care either way, and doesn’t see why Rey should either. “He was just someone who didn’t come back.”

     Rey burrows more deeply into her blankets. “I prefer the people who do,” she agrees. For the rest of the night, and to Sheev’s relief, she asks no further questions.

     While her friends are away, Rey trains with Yellow Squadron as she had hoped. They drill in the morning and Sheev sits outside on the roof of one of the bunkers with BB-8 while the girl executes skillful dips and dives. Though she is trying to focus on a decryption project, Sheev’s concentration is broken as the droid trills in glee when Rey’s gold stained X-wing strafes low enough that they could see Rey’s face through the glass of the canopy, if the human eye was fast enough to process such a sight. Sheev sighs. BB-8’s optical sensors probably are- hence the celebratory beeping.

     Rey hasn’t yet been cleared for duties, so in the afternoons when the rest of the squadron is out on patrol, they swim together. Apparently it’s a skill Rey hadn’t known she possessed until she had inadvertently gone cliff diving while training with Skywalker.

     “You would have learned on Dantooine,” Sheev points out as they tread water in the middle of the lake. It’s strange to be at eye level with Rey, for once.

     “But I don’t have any memories until  _ after  _ the attack on the temple.”

     “Muscle memory.” It’s the same principal that makes a quick shot and a nimble warrior, and something the Force seems to have blessed Rey with in abundance. 

     Five days after Finn and Dameron left to visit with Skywalker, General Organa arranges a departure of her own. Sheev hangs back, waiting for an opportune moment to request a new restriction level on her datapad while Organa fields the objections of her fellow command members.

     “No, I will not- Threepio will be all the backup I need,” Organa blusters. “We don’t need to haul out half of the fleet just so I can visit with Han’s solicitor.”

     The prevailing rumor on base is that the late General Solo had left Organa a sizeable inheritance- one that might include revitalizing sums and ships for the struggling Resistance. Many grumbled that this would have been a welcome development _ immediately following _ the events at Starkiller base, but apparently the Corellian solicitor had been unaware or unconvinced of Solo’s demise until the old scoundrel failed to collect on a wager some months later. In the meanwhile, D’Qar had been so thoroughly cloaked from detection that it had taken the intervention of General Calrissian for word of the inheritance to reach the ears for which is was intended. The speculation surrounding the matter is a welcome break from the usual suspicious chatter that seems to follow Sheev wherever she goes, but within a standard-day of the General’s departure- those rumors resume.

     “-Always creeping around...”   
  
     “And what has she ever done for  _ us _ ?”

     Though one of the last moment approvals Organa makes on her way out of the base is to clear Rey for X-wing patrol duty, the transport to Corellia leaves without Sheev getting a chance to ask about a new restriction level. With both Generals Organa and Dameron off world, she’s out of high-clearance officers who might have spared her the time of day. Ackbar, Ematt, and Statura all have developed an uncanny knack for ordering the room to be cleared anytime Sheev approaches. 

     With both Rey and Verlaine on full shifts, only BB-8 is on hand to ‘mind’ her during the day and Sheev still lacks official duties to distract herself with. She contemplates hiking to the river to expend some energy, but after the incident with the defector Sheev is wary of being pegged as ominously solitary. Even holing up in her empty quarters all day feels too similar to the months spent in First Order detention following Starkiller, so Sheev tries to stay in sight and close to the command bunker, but out of the way as much as possible. This doesn’t help her reputation as lurker, of course, so she takes up the practice of nodding curtly to people as they pass which seems to relieve a bit of tension. This sort of frivolous exchange was unnecessary amongst stormtroopers, but within a day or two- it comes naturally.

     “Our outpost in the Ryloth system is relaying an incoming transmission from General Organa, no restriction marker,” reports Lieutenant Connix.   
  
     “When in doubt...” Ackbar grumbles.   
  
     Statura waves a hand. “Clear the room!”

     As it was meal time and there were double patrols out and the moment, the crowd of extraneous personnel in the command room was rather thin to begin with- only four or five junior officers duck out. BB-8 blithely follows the group, but Sheev, weary of being routinely ignored or banished, simply steps behind a pillar and leans against it, closing her eyes. Is this what her life is going to be from now on? Instead of existing to serve as an extension of the will of Supreme Leader, like a proper stormtrooper- she would wander along with no will, even of her own? She contemplates this quietly from her hiding place.

     A zapping static heralds the transmission. There is no dance of blue light on the walls to indicate that it is accompanied by a holoimage of Organa, just her crackled voice speaks. “...delay my return. There are arrangements that must be made immediately for the-” a crack in the audio, “-benefit of the New Republic and of all peoples, not just our individual needs. Expect-” another crack underscored by a tinny beep, “- a timeline of...a standard-month.” The message fizzles out.

     “Very well,” says Ackbar, cutting the feed and murmuring positively with the others.

     It is  _ not  _ very well.

     While the command reopens to the lower-level personnel, Sheev replays the staccato click of the noise that interfered with the clarity of the transmission in her head. It was consistent- too consistent,  _ too Orderly _ , layered over an unnaturally shifting background. This was a manipulated transmission, with the fingerprints of her former associates all over it.

     When the doors open BB-8 spills in and frantically beeps, likely questioning why Sheev had just been unaccounted for. This gathers some attention as people filter back into the room, but Sheev pushes out past them, nearly toppling a green skinned Duros on her way out. With the animosity surrounding her presence with the Resistance, she can’t simply announce that she had committed a security infraction without some kind of data to back up what she has just discovered. This must be where having some of that ‘personality’ of Finn’s might have come into good use- he could pull it off. Sheev never anticipated missing her former, failed subordinate.

     Ducking around a turn of the hallway before BB-8 can follow, Sheev keeps out of sight behind a slide of dirt and ruins, thinking quickly. The clearest path to proving that the transmission has been tampered with involves the increased restriction levels she has been trying to obtain  _ properly  _ for days now. Improperly,  _ well _ ...

     The first person to come to mind with such access that was currently out of the way was Verlaine. Her quarters would be empty while both she and her Sullustan mate (a pilot assigned to Red squadron) are on patrol. With the coast clear of prying eyes and BB-8 nowhere in sight, Sheev darts down the rest of the hallway, aiming her way through the complex toward the hangars where most of Yellow Squadron berths. When she arrives at the door she counts both herself fortunate and Verlaine foolish for having granted her visitor’s access.

     The room is furnished with all manner of decadent and unnecessary things, but most importantly- a personal comm suite. Sheev kneels in front of the low counter, hands searching for an expansion cable she can use to port her own datapad into the modular system. Finding an appropriate plug, she jams the feed between the two and exploits the advanced processing power of the suite, boosting the progress of the decryption project she had already been working on. By convincing the suite that her own datapad was a sub-routine, she isolates and carries over the higher level restriction codes, effectively stealing her way into access she wouldn’t even have dreamed of asking for. She unhooks from the suite and slips out of the quarters just as unseen as she had arrived, and returns to her own to gather evidence of the tampering.

     Sheev is only half way through locating and compressing comparable transmissions when Rey returns, wearing a bright orange flightsuit with wisps of her sweaty hair plastered to her forehead. BB-8 enters behind her, emitting a burst of surprised noises at having finally located Sheev after hours apart.

     “Are you feeling all right? BB-8 says you blew her off all afternoon.” Rey begins to undo her harnesses. Her face is pinched with worry.

     Pushing her datapad behind herself, Sheev looks up, arranging her face in a neutral expression. “I had no official activities to attend.”

     Rey drops the strapped parts of her gear in a tangle on the floor, still frowning. “Right. When General Organa gets back, we should get your approved for duties.” Sheev’s mouth tightens into a thin line. 

     “Perhaps.” At this point there was no telling if General Organa  _ was  _ getting back to base. But she can’t,  _ won’t  _ tell Rey that until she has proof.

     After sitting down to tug off her boots, Rey sighs and collapses back on the cot to catch her breath for a moment. “It can’t be enjoyable having to sit around all day waiting for me.”

     Whether she means it pointedly or not- Sheev acknowledges the experience and weight behind that comment. She watches Rey go through the rest of her post-flight routine, shucking her suit and undressing her hair so that she can comb it out before taking a sonic shower. She still prefers them after living on Jakku all those years- that little girl who had waited around all day for her to return, for years.  _ Her  _ little girl.

     Rey hisses at a knot, pulling against it with a wince. With a sigh Sheev rises to her feet and crosses the room. She slips the brush from Rey’s hand and sits on the edge of the cot behind her and starts carefully combing out the knot herself. Very quiet, Rey lets her. 

     If Sheev had stayed on Dantooine, they might have lived this scene every night, she thinks. She might have been there to watch Rey learn to swim from Master Luke as she had done and even been there when the temple fell. Instead of serving the will of the Supreme Leader, Sheev could have served as protector and guide to one who was clearly destined for a path as great as any ever planned for her by the Order.

     When Rey’s hair is finally smooth, fanned out down her back, Sheev folds her hands into her lap. “Thank you,” Rey says, turning to look over her shoulder.

     “Rey,” Sheev says softly. She’s never said it aloud before- never uttered  _ any  _ name for her child aloud. When she had given her baby up to Skywalker, it didn’t seem like she deserved to mark her with anything else of her making. Sheev had failed at so many other things already, she couldn’t choose who this whole other person was going to be and be wrong about that too. Rey chose her name for herself just like she had so naturally chosen the Light. 

     “Master Luke told me that you had never named me...” Rey trails off.

     “Rey is good. Rey is beautiful.” Sheev knows now that above all, she wouldn’t deny Rey from being anything she chose to be. Rey twists in her seat to face her.

     “Finn and I joke about ‘The Bacca Twins’ and all, but-” she draws a deep breath. “Could I take the name Rey Phasma?” 

     Sheev’s mouth drops open, not having expected such a request. Phasma was a name that had been given to her to differentiate her in galaxy when she separated from the Remnant to seek the Jedi. It was her sense of status and her sense of self- the only thing that had truly belonged  _ only  _ to her, at least until she had a daughter.

     But now? Rey belongs more to herself than anyone else.

     “Would that be right?” Sheev puzzles at the question. Her grasp of these things is not very well calibrated. Perhaps the longer she is with Rey she will come to know these things more naturally.

     “Of course,” says Rey, a watery tremble in her voice. “I am yours. You are my mother.” She wipes at her nose with her wrist, eyes glittering.

     Sheev nods then, in approval and Rey flings her arms around her, holding tight and sniveling into her shoulder. Sheev folds around her, closer than she’s been to anyone in far too long.

-

     By morning, Sheev still hasn’t brought up her suspicions about General Organa’s transmission to anyone, even Rey, though her search for comparable samples is nearly done processing. There had been a breakthrough between mother and daughter- and she wasn’t eager to throw shields back up by confessing her misconduct. 

     On top of the somewhat minor case of disobeying Statura’s order, she had trespassed in another officer's quarters, stolen her coded identity, and reallocated a holowidth beacon to run a program through subspace that could lead enemies back to the Resistance’s position. The chance of the beacon being discovered before it automatically shut down upon completion was slim- but in the First Order just that infraction alone would have had Sheev shipped off to a slave colony if she hadn’t already been slated for execution. Things were different in the Resistance, certainly- but it was still a military. It couldn’t be  _ that  _ different. 

     While they suit up for the day, her nerves are just as tense as any night on Dantoonie when she might have run away to the beach to let the sea beat the anxiety out of her. Sheev is considering slipping away to the river until her program concludes- when a sudden knock on door rattles her.

     “Just a moment!” Rey calls while wriggling into a tunic, only half dressed. At her heels, BB-8 hoots in query as the knocking continues urgently. 

     Sheev exhales deeply, sure that her beacon has been discovered and punishment will be swift. To spare Rey, she crosses to the door that she might surrender before Rey has a chance to put up a fight.  _ Would  _ Rey fight for her? Sheev glances over her shoulder at her before opening the door, and Rey smiles, illuminated by the morning light.

_      Rey is good, Rey is beautiful, _ and if it helps the people she has chosen as her own for Sheev to admit what she has done and uncover what has happened with General Organa, so be it.

     When the door slides open, instead of a troop of Resistance soldiers come to arrest her, Finn bursts into the room with Dameron close behind. “Rey, I came back as soon as I could!”   
       
      “What are you talking about?” Rey finishes shrugging on a robe just before he clutches her at both elbows, insistent.

     BB-8 swarms around them as Dameron joins. “Finn’s been training with Master Luke to make  Force connections like you two can- last night he wakes up, says it’s like someone back here needs him.”

     “I’m fine?” Rey shakes her head and pulls away, flashing a look over the men’s shoulders to Sheev, still standing silently by the door.

     “It... may have been me,” she says, drawing closer to the group.

     Finn turns to look up at her, eyes wide. “Phasma?” His tone is softer than any he’s ever used to speak to her before, and it tugs at her. He has known her longer than most and seen more sides of her- been on those same sides himself. For some reason, despite separating from the First Order, they couldn’t quite seem to separate from each other. The open look on his face inspires honesty.

     “I heard something I wasn’t meant to,” Sheev says straight away. “General Organa set a transmission back to base that I believe has been tampered with.”

     “General Organa?” Dameron rounds on her, intense. “Was her transmission intercepted? Anyone outside of the Resistance getting wind of her being off base...” By the struck look on all their faces, no one in the room needs him to spell out the possible danger.

     “I’m not certain, but I can prove the message has been through the same scramble as other corrupted transmissions,” Sheev says, grabbing her datapad off her cot.

     Dameron nods. “Then we’d better go hear it for ourselves!”

     A few minutes later, the four march into the command room, BB-8 clearing the way with anxious squawks.

     “General Dameron,” Major Ematt nods. “We didn’t expect you back so soon.”   
  
     “And when are we expecting General Organa back? I understand there’s been a transmission and Phasma believes it has been tampered with,” Dameron says, gesturing to Sheev.

     “What business does a  _ defected captain  _ of the First Order have scrutinizing  _ our  _ security?” asks an officer who has never once made eye contact with Sheev until this very moment. “Or even hearing such a message?” 

     Sheev grits her teeth at that, but Finn is provoked first. “Just play the transmission,” he barks. Next to him, Dameron nods.

     Ematt crosses to the console on the far side of the room and calls up the activity log from the day before, identifying the the correct file.

     “...delay my return,” comes the voice of General Organa, accompanied by telltale clicks. “There are arrangements that must be made immediately for the-- benefit of the New Republic and of all peoples--- not just our individual needs. Expect-- a timeline of a standard-month.” 

     Ackbar and Statura turn to one another. “The appointment on Corellia  _ was  _ verified...”

     “Bit formal,” Rey whispers to Finn, who nods.

     “We must put aside our differences,” says Dameron, then he recites: “ ‘ _ For the benefit of the New Republic and of all peoples, thinking of not just our individual needs _ ’... Seriously, did no one else listen to Organa’s speech at the Felucian Peace Summit?” BB-8 makes a reprimanding hoot and the others stiffen. “This has clearly been pieced together from recordings of the General’s public appearances. Phasma- what have you got?”

     Vindicated by the acknowledgement of a forgery, Sheev launches herself at the console. She finds a feed with which to connect her datapad, and pulls up the program she has designed to isolate the anomalies. A visual depiction of the sound waves in Organa’s transmission flickers up in holographic form, accompanied by six similar samples.

     “These are all edited fragments of data released by the First Order as a distraction technique- some to the holonet, some to known listening posts of the New Republic,” she explains. “A complete fabrication like this would never have had so much of the original phrasing strung together if it hadn’t been hastily made. If the General was abducted while traveling, it was not anticipated by her captors.”

     Sheev stares across the holograph at Major Ematt, and he nods to a pale faced technician. “All incoming and outgoing subspace transmissions to this base are now suspect,” he notes. The technician bolts out of the room, presumably to alert the proper departments. It would be unwise for the Resistance to make contact with any of its affiliates until the matter was fully investigated- or else they could blunder their way into revealing their position after months of careful secrecy.

     “I imagine this was to prevent us from following up with the General’s itinerary.” Ackbar pulls up a number of coordinates related to the transmission. A projected path is threaded together by a thin line. When he taps in another set of data points, half of it changes from blue to white, cutting off at her last confirmed whereabouts.

     “I have a bad feeling about this...” Finn mumbles. Given his developing skill at Force connections, this is a more loaded statement from his mouth than most.

     Sheev nods, and directs the console to expand on the area her research had narrowed down as the point of origin. “Since the relay came from the Ryloth system, and is most similar to the third and fourth samples, one could assume that a cruiser in this sector was responsible,” she says.

     With utter certainty Finn points. “That’s where she is. General Organa has been kidnapped by the First Order.”

     “Then I’m going after her,” says Dameron, planting his fists on his hips. His droid beeps determinedly at his side. “Yes, of course, Bee- who  _ else  _ is in?”

     “Poe, I’m sorry. I know she’s been like a mother to you... but the Resistance  _ has  _ to be bigger than any one member- even the General,” says Statura. Sheev can remember making similar remarks about the insignificance of any single Order member in the past, but now something about it rings false. She watches Dameron hang his head sorrowfully, considering. Finn slings an arm around him in comfort. 

     The people of the resistances band together with every scrap of resource available to them- that was where they found their unexpected strength- that was what Sheev had learned in her time on D’Qar. Everything and everyone here was interconnected. She draws herself up to her full height. “If it was a matter of just one life, I might be the first to agree. If the First Order simply wanted her dead, they would not have bothered to hide their trail.”

     Finn glances at her. “These  _ are  _ the people who openly obliterated the Hosnian system.” 

     Sheev nods. “They mean to use her for something more damaging than just the execution of a figurehead.”

     “The First Order has made unimaginable weapons before and General Organa is stronger with the Force than she lets on,” Rey reminds them, “-Master Skywalker has long suspected that Snoke is seeking Jedi as a power source. We can’t rule out the possibility that she could suit his purposes.The capture of General Organa might have been opportunistic, but it likely will set events into motion that we cannot ignore.”

     The commanders all look to one another gravely, then seem to come to an agreement.

     “You’re granted selection of your team, General,” says Ackbar. “We’ll have Intelligence put together a report for the sector.”

     BB-8 lets loose a triumphant squeal, and Finn speaks up immediately. “I’m going.” Dameron smiles hopefully at this and then looks to Rey, standing between him and Sheev.

     “You backed me up when I wanted to jailbreak my mother, I can’t exactly say ‘no’.” She crosses her arms in mock boredom but grins infectiously.

     Around them, the activity of the bunker returns to it’s peculiar definition of ‘normal’, and instead of ordering Sheev’s arrest- the officers delegate tasks and operations. Sheev lets go of the breath she’s been holding inadvertently and steps closer to the group. Finn looks around at her expectantly, maybe even- smiling? 

     “May I join?” she asks, fully anticipating being rebuffed.

     Clapping her on the shoulder, Dameron laughs. “Of course.”

     “You’re one of us,” Rey says naturally.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Subscribe to the series/author/whatever to catch the next installment of this series! Leave a comment to cheer me on! Pet a droid! :D
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> [art by me! stitchyarts on tumblr ](http://stitchyarts.tumblr.com/tagged/star%20wars)


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